


Don't Assume

by Withstarryeyes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abused Harry, Abused Harry Potter, Abusive Dursley Family (Harry Potter), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxious Harry, Child Neglect, Conflicted Snape, Epilepsy, Epileptic Harry Potter, Eventual Adoptive Father Severus Snape, Gen, Good Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts First Year, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Neglect, Mentor Severus Snape, Mostly Good Slytherins, Potions, Protective Severus Snape, Protective Slytherins, Sarcasm, Sassy Harry Potter, Seizures, Severitus, Sick Harry, Slytherin Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2020-09-27 12:36:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20407870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Withstarryeyes/pseuds/Withstarryeyes
Summary: An epileptic, Slytherin Harry AU of the Harry Potter books. In which Harry becomes great friends with Draco, realizes he has seizures, saves the world, and gains an adoptive father, although not particularly in that order.On indefinite hiatus!!!





	1. Prologue--The Sorting

**Author's Note:**

> Hi y'all as of 6.2.2020 this work is on indefinite hiatus. I hope you enjoy the chapters that are already written but I will not be updating this work for a while if at all.

“How exactly do they sort us into houses?” Harry asked Draco. 

Draco paled and Harry knew that he had asked a question that Draco had deemed stupid but was too polite to say so. “The sorting hat. My father says that you wear it and it analyzes your personality to place you in the house where you most belong. I’m going to be in Slytherin, of course.”

“Slytherin?” Harry repeated slowly and sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. 

“Didn’t you listen to the song the hat sang?” Draco asked, his face pinched. 

Harry shook his head. He was too nervous and excited to listen to much of anything that had happened. He was too busy looking at the Great Hall, with its floating candles and long, heavy, wood tables. Harry stepped forward. It was getting closer to when he’d be sorted. 

“There are four houses,” Draco whispered, seeing how close Harry and he had gotten to the stage where they’d be sorted. “Slytherin, where I will be, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Slytherin is where kids who are cunning and ambitious go, Gryffindor is filled with a bunch of courageous imbeciles that rush headlong into danger, Hufflepuff is where all the delusional kids go that just want to make friends all the time and Ravenclaw is full of bookworms. They’re all kinda boring if you ask me, besides Slytherin, of course.”

Harry shifted from one foot to the other. He didn’t know where he’d end up. He’d like to be with Draco, if he could, since Draco was the first friend that Harry had ever made, but Harry didn’t know if he was ambitious or cunning. He didn’t really _ want  _ anything. The only thing that Harry had ever wished for was to be away from the Dursleys and he’d already had that come true. 

“Granger, Hermoine,” McGonnagall called and Harry watched as the bushy-haired girl he and Draco had met on the train sat on the stool. He wondered what happened when the hat was placed on his head. Draco said it seemed to read your thoughts and determine what kind of person you were. Did it talk? Or did you just sit there silently watching the crowd and wait for an answer?

The girl sat on the stool for quite some time before the hat declared her a Gryffindor and the Hall erupted into cheers. Harry watched her join the table with the small red-head he’d met on the platform to the Hogwarts Express. Ron, he thought, Weasley. Draco had talked about the Weasleys before, he didn’t seem to be too fond of them. But Harry thought that Ron was perfectly nice. Maybe Harry was meant to be a Hufflepuff, after all, he had already made several new friends and he didn’t see what was wrong with making more. 

“Malfoy, Draco.” 

Harry watched in distress as Draco left him and swaggered onto the stool. Draco had been right, after all, the hat yelled out Slytherin almost before it had hit Draco’s head. Harry was feeling the cold clutches of panic now. He had never been that good at school, of course, that’s because the Dursley’s had forbidden him from getting better grades than Dudley, but Harry still couldn’t see himself being put into Ravenclaw. But that still left three houses, Harry thought dejectedly as Malfoy took his seat at the Slytherin table, the underside of his rob changing to a deep green. 

He didn’t have much time to ponder where he’d end up because McGonagall called his name and the whole hall grew silent. Harry felt stuck to his place, but McGonagall grabbed his arm and helped him over to the stool and he closed his eyes, feeling the hat slip over the top of his head to rest somewhere near the top rim of his glasses. He could hear the kids in the hall whispering about him, but soon those sounds were drowned out by the hat speaking to him. 

“Hmm,” said a small voice in his ear, “Difficult. Very difficult, Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There’s talent, oh my goodness, yes-- and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that’s interesting...So where shall I put you?” 

Harry gripped the edge of the stool and thought  _ please hurry, please hurry.  _

“Well in that case---better be SLYTHERIN!”

Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. His ears were buzzing too loudly for him to notice the pregnant pause that followed the declaration and with slightly shaking knees, Harry made his way to the Slytherin table. Draco clapped when he sat down and the rest of the Slytherins followed, although a little stilted, and soon the whole hall followed before quieting for the next student. 

Draco leaned in next to him and whispered in his ear but Harry was too busy gazing around the hall to hear what was being said. Eventually, Draco stopped trying, crossing his arms over his chest and instead turned to chat with Crabbe and Goyle. Harry had a better look at each of the Professors at the Head table, Professor Dumbledore was at the end, with his silvery hair and golden, half-moon spectacles. A few seats down from him was a man with a hook nose and a sallow face, black eyes that seemed to pin him to place. In front of him was a man in a purple turban, who seemed to be trembling. Harry looked past him to stare at the hooked nose man and stifled a cry when his scar seemed to burst into flames. 

Harry clapped a hand to his head and Draco broke off from Crabbe and Goyle, latching onto Harry’s arm. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Harry said, for as quick as the pain had come on, it stopped and Harry sat blinking stupidly at the pointed face of his best friend. 

Draco seemed less than pleased with that answer so Harry swallowed and dropped his hand. “Who is the man with the long black hair?”

Draco settled back at the question, then peeked a look at the Head table, “Oh you mean Professor Snape?”

Harry followed Draco’s gaze and nodded once, keeping his eyes trained on the front of the man’s black robes and far away from his cold gaze. 

“He’s our Head of House and the Potions Master of the school.”

Harry felt the color drain from his face. Professor Snape was the Head of Slytherin house? How was Harry ever going to make it through this school year alive?

Draco had detached from the conversation yet again, however, and Harry took another look to the table where Snape sat. He was scowling at Harry and Harry felt like a pile of worms was squirming around in his stomach. He swallowed hard and tried to find the excitement he’d felt just a few hours ago about the chance to attend Hogwarts. He was magical, he was a wizard, he’d been given a chance to get away from the Dursleys, and Harry wasn’t going to let Snape ruin that. Even if he looked at Harry the same way that Uncle Vernon did when Harry forgot to do one of the many chores Vernon left him before work. 


	2. Chapter One--Rules and Friends

After the sorting, the Slytherin prefects herded them back to their common room. Harry had never been more tired in his life. The train ride, coupled with the anticipation for the sorting and the split second of pain in his scar had drained him of all his energy. But Draco was practically bouncing out of his skin and Harry was determined to keep up with him. 

He wondered if all of the houses had a first night meeting like the Slytherins, or if Snape just liked to run things with precision and intention. He was waiting at the portrait when the prefects arrived and he entered ahead of them, watching with detached interest as Harry and Draco, Theodore and Blaise, Pansy and Millicent all entered with the rest of the Slytherins. Harry was surprised to see the upper years all sitting in the back as if they had assigned seating. He wondered if he was supposed to know where to go, then disregarded that worry as stupid considering none of the first years had even seen the common room, let alone gotten a memo that detailed where exactly they needed to be. Sure enough, when the last of the first years filed in the prefects showed them where to sit-- curled up by the fireplace-- and just a few feet away from Professor Snape, who seeing everyone accounted for, cleared his throat and began to pace. 

“I am sure that all of you are tired. It has been a long day for those of us that are rejoining Hogwarts--” Snape nodded at the prefects and the second-years and above that stood at the back of the room-- “and even more so for those of us who are just joining. However, I expect you all to pay attention to what I have to say, as I will not repeat myself and any of the prefects that find students breaking the rules I am about to lay out will send them directly to me for detention.” He paused and Harry sucked in a breath, already worried about rules. What could the professors at Hogwarts do if he broke them? The teachers at Harry’s old school could never physically punish him, but of course, Harry had never lived at the school before. He wondered if the Professors at Hogwarts were like the Dursleys, who never gave second-- or even first-- chances when it came to rules, and who beat Harry for the mildest inconvenience. He was so worried that until Draco bumped him with his elbow, Harry hadn’t realized he’d droned out half of Snape’s speech. 

“Curfew will be at 8 pm every night for first years, second years and above are already aware what time they need to be in bed, and lights out for any children under the age of thirteen is 9 pm. If I find anyone wandering outside of their dormitories, they will be given at least two days of detention and a three-foot essay on the importance of a regulated sleep schedule. Breakfast is at 7 am tomorrow, I expect to see all of you there at 7 am sharp to receive your schedules. Those who are late will not like the consequences. Am I clear?”

Harry looked around and saw everyone nodding and followed suit, returning his gaze to Snape only to receive a scowl in return. Harry wondered if Snape only had one expression. Uncle Vernon really only had one, and most of the time it was angry. Although if he was eating that anger seemed to be directed more to his meal than anything else, particularly Harry, and was only ever derailed if Harry did something wrong, like getting caught trying to swipe a roll before Aunt Petunia told him he could eat whatever was leftover. 

Snape turned on his heel and left the room, robes billowing out behind him. “That’s why everyone calls him the Great Bat of the Dungeons,” Draco said to Harry as he watched Snape leave. “It’s the way his robes follow him out.”

“Unnatural is what that is,” Harry said, wondering if Snape charmed them to fall that way or through years of scowling had scared his robes to do exactly what he wanted. 

However, it was time for them to head up to the bed, as it was already past the 8 pm curfew, and Harry was so tired he didn’t argue with Draco when the boy grabbed Harry’s arm and pulled him bodily up the stairs.

“Draco?” Harry asked when they’d reached the dormitories and Harry saw that his school trunk had already been set up at the bottom of a bed, a bed bigger than Harry had ever had before. Draco slipped on his nightshirt and then climbed on top of Harry’s bed, his steel grey eyes looking at Harry as if telling him to get it over with. “What was Snape’s talk about, you know before the stuff about the curfew.”

Draco sighed but it seemed more for show than anything else. “I knew you weren’t listening.” Harry blushed at that but Draco waved off his embarrassment. “Not much, just telling us to stick together and that he wouldn’t tolerate any in house fighting. Most of the school hates us because we have a reputation for being Dark.”

Harry wrinkled his nose at that. “Why does everyone think we’re Dark?”

“Well You-Know-Who used to be in Slytherin, and most of his followers were too. But most people don’t know that some of the most powerful Light wizards came from Slytherin too.”

“Like who?” Harry asked and saw Draco’s face light up.

“Well, Merlin himself, of course. He’d never have been so successful if he wasn’t as cunning as he was.”

“Wait,” Harry said, feeling his mouth drop open a bit, “Merlin’s a real wizard? I thought he was fictional.”

Draco studied him for a moment, amusement coloring his features. “I wonder how you survived being raised by those muggles, Harry. They didn’t teach you a thing. Of course Merlin’s real. He’s the most powerful wizard of all time.”

Harry giggled and Draco smiled at him before yawning. “Come on,” Draco said, getting off of Harry’s bed, “let’s go to sleep. Don’t want to be late for breakfast.”

“We won’t like the consequences,” Harry intoned in reply and Draco’s eyes widened at how accurate Harry’s impression of Snape was.

“Indeed we won’t,” Draco said back in the same inflection. 

The Slytherin prefects apparently also abhorred the idea of leaving the first years up to the consequences of being late, or perhaps, faced the same consequences if they didn’t look out for their housemates, because at quarter to 7, the prefects woke everyone up and told them to gather in the common room so that they could walk together to the Great Hall. Harry kinda liked being in Slytherin, being in a place where everyone looked out for each other. Nobody looked out for Harry at the Dursleys, especially not the Dursleys themselves. 

Draco bumped his shoulder with his own and Harry looked over at him. Draco’s hair was slicked back, as always, but his lips were pink from being nibbled on and his eyes looked scared. Harry didn’t think he’d ever seen Draco look anything but cocky and assured. “Are you okay?” Harry asked, quietly. 

Draco nodded but didn’t move away. Harry sighed and slowed his pace, making sure to be right by Draco’s side. “I’m scared too, you know,” Harry admitted, eyes trained on the ground. Around them, the footsteps of their peers echoed around the spacious dungeon, “I have no idea what to expect. This is all new for me.”

Draco smiled at that and seemed to pull himself back together. Harry felt better just looking at Draco’s swagger. 

The Great Hall was, if possible, even more energetic than the night prior. Students had met up with their old friends and had begun to make new ones, the first years were a little less tentative, the seventh years boisterous at best. Harry shrunk away from the noise but followed Draco to his seat where there was a large serving of sweet rolls, bangers and mash, eggs, bacon and english muffins waiting for consumption. Harry wasn’t sure he’d ever seen so much food in one place before. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been allowed to eat as much food before either. 

Their schedules came and the food went and suddenly Harry and Draco were being ushered to classes by Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini. 

By the end of the day Harry was exhausted and overwhelmed, yet not less excited than he had been before. Everything at Hogwarts was exciting, from the hallways packed with students in their house-coded cloaks, to the ghosts that floated around, to the actual magic that they were learning in class. Harry couldn’t believe that this was real, and maybe if he wasn’t so desperate to get away from the Dursley’s, he would’ve questioned it more. As it was, all he wanted was a hot shower and an early night in. But Draco was pulling on his sleeve, even as Harry was dumping his schoolbag by his bed and flopping facefirst into the soft mattress.

“Dinner’s about to start, Harry. We have to go.”

“I’m not hungry,” Harry whined, the statement muffled by the sheets. 

“Unc-- I mean Professor Snape,” Drace said, stressing the correction, “said that we aren’t to miss meal times. He’ll give you a detention.”

Harry thought it over. On the one hand, he was so tired he was afraid he’d fall asleep in his soup, but on the other, Harry had learned that he should never invite a punishment. Sure, so far Hogwarts had been different from the Dursely’s, in almost every way possible, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be punished in the same way. He had just gotten there and his back was still sore from Uncle Vernon’s last belting, he really didn’t think he could handle another session so soon. 

He pried himself off of the bed and flipped over, glaring halfheartedly at Draco, who for the most part, glared back. “Why’d you start to call him Uncle?”

That made Draco squirm more than the lukewarm glare Harry had shot him and Draco but down hard on his lip. “He’s my godfather, but Father said that I shouldn’t let people know that. Besides, Un--” Draco let out a noise of frustration, “ _ Professor _ Snape would never give me special treatment just because he helped change my nappies when I was little.”

Harry wrinkled his face up, wondering if he had a godfather hiding somewhere that had helped change his nappies. But if he did, he doubted they had anything to do with him when he was little. Because if he had a godfather that had cared enough to look after him as an infant they would’ve rescued him from the Dursley’s ages ago, right?

He didn’t have long to ponder that thought because Draco had resumed pulling Harry bodily from his bed and Harry couldn’t fight it anymore. They only had ten minutes to make it to the Great Hall and now that he wasn’t determined to sleep the evening away, Harry was really looking forward to another serving of treacle tart that he’d snagged at the Welcoming Feast the night before. 

“Well come on then,” Harry said, when Draco stopped to tie his shoe at the doorway, biting back a smile when Draco crossed his arms and raised his eyebrow as if to say “cause I’m the one holding us up.”

The smile slipped out when Harry realized that Draco looked a little like their Head of House, and wondered just how much of Draco’s life Snape had been around for, and how many of his habits Draco had inadvertently picked up. 

Draco threw an elbow into Harry’s ribs and darted away before Harry could retaliate, but the action just made Harry laugh as he ran after Draco, up to the Great Hall for a warm dinner and pudding. 

Harry was just happy that, for the first time in his life, he had a friend. 


	3. Chapter Two--Potions and the Library

Draco had been chattering on about potions all week. Harry was excited for it at first, then a little less after Draco’s droning on and on, but he was looking forward to a class that was a little like Muggle chemistry. Harry had liked chemistry until he’d started to do well in the class and then surpassed Dudley. The beating he’d received after that report card had sent any passion he had for the subject out the window. But maybe here was different. 

He was still a little wary of Hogwarts, a little cautious around the teachers, and especially around Filch who reminded Harry of a skinner, faster Vernon. He still ate little and slept unwell. He still found the best alcoves to tuck himself in if he ever felt anxious. But Hogwarts was nice, and everything that Harry had ever asked for-- a place where he could be himself, a place where people talked about his parents like they were worth something and a place where he found himself in company that wasn’t him or one of the snakes he found out in the garden when he was tending the weeds. He hated the stares he sometimes got when people found out he was Harry Potter (and said his name in a way that made his skin crawl with a flash of a nightmare he’d had since he was a little kid, a dream with a high pitched laugh and a green light, of a thud and a harsh sob), but he liked the fact that he wasn’t called a freak or a whelp or boy when someone wanted his attention. 

Draco tugged on the sleeve of Harry’s robe and Harry looked up to see they’d reached Snape’s classroom. Inside, Harry could see a scattered array of Slytherins and Gryffindors with their cauldrons in front of them and parchment, quills, and ink laid on the table in front. From where Harry was he couldn’t see Professor Snape, but Harry knew that didn’t mean he wasn't there. 

Harry was used to adults hiding in shadows and popping out at him when he thought he was well and truly alone. Vernon used to slam his cupboard open after too many glasses of brandy just to watch Harry jump and grab at his blanket. Petunia would sometimes burst into the kitchen right when Harry was taking something off of the stove to yell at him that it was overcooked and tell him that if he did it again she’d fry his hand like he’d done the bacon. She’d never gone through with that threat, but she had once swung a frying pan at his head for burning Dudley’s breakfast when he was much younger and he’d been unable to duck in time.

He spent that week feeling dizzy and out of it, but Petunia had woken him every day to make breakfast and had never offered him any medicine when she saw him squinting pained up at the light. 

Draco had already sat down by the time Harry had finished looking across the classroom for his Head of House and Harry had only set out his parchment and ink when Snape came billowing in the room, the door to the classroom slamming shut behind him. Harry suppressed a flinch and pushed down the embarrassment as he saw several Gryffindors startle badly enough to fling the excess ink from their quills across their parchment. 

Snape settled at the front of the room and rested his cool gaze at a small, freckled, redheaded boy in Gryffindor. He sneered and the child squirmed, his face growing red at the attention. Harry could see how annoyed the child was, when his hands curled into fists in his lap. Snape broke the eye contact before the kid could explode, and moved it to rest on the messy curls of Harry’s hair. He didn’t squirm, and he didn’t flinch either, instead changing his expression into a blank stare he often wore when Aunt Marge was looking for something to criticize him on when she was over for dinner. She always found a reason, of course, but it was never due to a dumb look on Harry’s face, nor was it due to Harry flinching, or acting scared of her. 

Snape’s lip curled, for a fraction of a second, not long enough for any of the Gryffindors to notice, but long enough that Harry had and was beginning to feel nervous. He took roll call, gave a small speech, and set them loose to brew a simple cure for Boils. 

Draco gathered the ingredients while Harry read, re-read and referenced the steps with the textbook. He’d had little time to read more than a few pages out of the Potions textbook and he already had a feeling that Snape wasn’t fond of him. Harry was determined to give the man no more reasons to put Harry on his bad side. This week Harry had bothered Draco with questions, until Draco had informed Harry that he’d been brewing with Uncle Sev the majority of his life so far and as long as Harry sat next to Draco in potions they’d be able to brew practically every first year potion flawlessly. Harry thought Draco was being a little arrogant, but it made him less nervous anyway. Now Harry was more afraid of being singled out than creating a failing potion. 

Harry found that he quite liked potions. There was a kind of rhythm to them that wasn’t unlike cooking, which Harry had been doing since he was four or five. Draco chopped and handed the ingredients off to Harry who added them at the right time, stirred, and changed the heat of the potion as the directions asked. The brewing process was more satisfying than cooking in a way. Harry liked the colors, for the first part, and the bubbles and the way the liquid moved as if it had magic of its own. He’d never seen that before while cooking and Harry spent almost every moment in the lesson that he wasn’t reading the directions with his head bent over the cauldron, watching the potion shimmer and change. 

He felt Draco nudge him and looked up. His eyebrows were furrowed with concern and Harry had the distinct feeling that he’d missed something, like Draco had been trying to get his attention for quite some time. Harry sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and began to chew. Draco reached for his upper arm and Harry, not expecting it and feeling a little off, like ants were crawling over his skin and sending tiny pricks of pain and heat and cold up to his brain, flinched. 

Draco’s eyebrows buried ever deeper into the crease between his eyes. Harry cut off any eye contact they had and looked at the bottom of his shoes. 

“Harry?” Draco asked and Harry sighed, pulling his chin back up to meet Dracos’ steel gray eyes. 

He swallowed. “Yes?”

Draco cut his gaze to their Professor, but Snape was too busy yelling at Longbottom’s poor attempt at a potion to take much notice of the two off-topic Slytherins. “Are you okay? You sorta...went somewhere I couldn’t reach. You didn’t reply for a minute or so, and your fingers kept twitching.”

Harry looked down but his fingers were as still as they always were, gripping the glass stir rod Harry had used to incorporate the last of the ingredients. “I don’t…” Harry chomped down on his lip like a wad of chewing gum, “Are you sure? I was watching the potion, maybe I didn’t hear you.”

“No--” Draco shook his head, “I called your name really loudly at one point and even Snape looked over. He was still yelling at Longbottom at that point.”

“It’s Snape, his hearing is like a bat’s. “

Draco’s face pinched and he took in a stuttering breath. “Harry something was wrong. I just know it. Maybe if we talk to Snape he can help.”

“No!” Harry yelled. Draco jumped and Snape’s attention snapped toward them. 

“I was under the impression--” Snape’s footsteps fell hard in the echoing classroom and Harry cringed away--”that this is a  _ classroom _ . It is for learning. Do not mistake it for the Great Hall where idle chatter will be allowed. Now get back to work, Potter.”

Harry took the chance to end the conversation with Draco, keeping his gaze on the potion, then on the bottle as he labeled it with their names, the date, and the potion they brewed. All the while Draco sent Harry frantic, concerned glances when Snape wasn’t looking. 

By the end of class, Harry was exhausted. He didn’t want to have another fight with Draco over this but he knew that Draco wouldn’t drop the topic suddenly. When Draco went up to turn in the sample of their potion, Harry left and, instead of returning to the common room, he took the stairs up to the library. Draco would find him eventually, but at that point, Draco may be mad enough at Harry that he didn’t care if Harry admitted he had a problem or not. 

Harry just couldn’t tell Snape. He’d seen the looks the man had directed at him, the dozens of acerbic replies he’d swallowed down, the rage that always simmered below the surface, ready to emerge like a striking viper. Harry had seen the same thing in Uncle Vernon’s face when he was cooking breakfast, out in the garden working too slow, sleeping too long, coming back with grades that were better than Dudley’s. It always meant pain and no food and barely any water. It always meant he was alone. He didn’t need that at Hogwarts too. 

The library was mostly empty when Harry got there. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be completely alone, though, so he steered himself towards a table almost overflowing with books where a Gryffindor girl in his charms and potions class sat in an uncomfortable-looking chair. He couldn’t remember her name at the moment but he remembered her helping Neville find his toad on the Hogwarts Express, so Harry hoped that she was nice most of the time. 

She didn’t look up when Harry took a seat, or when he heaved out a sigh, bored, but she slid over a book when he started thumping his feet against the base of the chair. 

“Thanks,” he whispered and she put the book she was reading down. “I’m Harry--”

“Potter,” she finished and smiled. Her teeth were a little too large for her mouth but they didn’t detract from her beauty. “I know all about you. I read about you and You-Know-Who in Hogwarts: A History. It drives Ron nuts when I mention that book but it really is a good book to read if you want to know anything about Hogwarts. Like did you know you can’t apparate on the grounds?”

“Apparate?” Harry asked, bewildered at the turn the conversation had made. 

“It’s a form of wizard travel. Sort of like Muggle teleportation.”

“Oh,” Harry breathed out. 

The girl blushed when she saw how Harry looked--like he’d been swept up in a tornado and placed down unharmed a hundred kilometers away from where he had been. “Sorry. I’m Hermione, Hermione Granger.”

“It’s okay,” Harry said and she gave him another small smile. He liked her smile, the more that he looked at it the better it became. Toothy and warm and realer than any of the ones the Slytherins gave out. “That stuff is kinda cool when you think about it.”

“Well if you want, I'd be happy to lend you my copy of Hogwarts: A History.”

Harry smiled then. “Yeah that would be nice.” 

Madam Pince cleared her throat loudly from across the library and both Hermione and Harry shrunk in their chairs. “Thanks again for the book.”

Hermione nodded her head and picked her book up again. It looked old and was at least as thick as Hermione’s head was wide. Harry shook his head, amused, and began to read. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys I hope you like this AU! Please let me know if you would like to see more and what you may like to see in later chapters :)
> 
> Thanks,   
C


	4. Chapter Three--Flying Lessons

As much as Harry would have liked to stay in the library the whole day, his stomach betrayed him. He often went days without meals at the Dursley’s and since he had been at Hogwarts he’d had a hard time keeping down any portion bigger than a quarter of a plate. He was hungry often but he could never manage to eat much. At breakfast that morning Harry had eaten half a slice of toast, a few swigs of pumpkin juice, and three spoonfuls of eggs and he was really starting to feel it. 

Lunch was starting soon and he knew that he couldn’t skip a meal, partially because he really liked the food here and it was the first time he’d been given full access to any kind of food in his life, but mostly because he knew if Snape caught him skipping a meal he’d be given a detention and he had no intention of getting one of those so early in the school year. Despite what Draco said about the man, Harry had a hard time trusting that Snape had Harry’s best interest or, for that manner, any interest that didn’t end up with Harry miserable at heart. 

Hermione had begun to notice Harry’s hunger too as every few minutes his stomach would growl in a low, drawn-out gurgle and Harry would press a fist into the bunch of skin by his navel, biting his lip, his eyes darting around the small library. 

“Would you like to walk down to the Great Hall together?” Hermione asked when it was 5 minutes until the meal began and Harry sighed, packing his school books into his bag and handing Hermione the book she’d leant him. Maybe Draco wouldn’t be at lunch. Maybe he was so worried about Harry that he was out looking and he’d miss lunch altogether. But Harry didn’t really want that either. He hated to think that he’d left Draco panicked and worried about him, even if he didn’t want to talk about whatever that episode in potions was. As Hermione lead them down to the Great Hall, Harry thought about asking Hermione if he could sit with her at the Gryffindor table but he wasn’t positive that that was allowed. Besides, he was pretty sure that even if Hogwarts didn’t have a problem with it Snape would. 

They were getting closer to the entrance of the Great Hall and Harry was feeling more and more anxious with every step. His hands felt clammy and he swallowed, feeling his breathing hitch as the entrance came into view. Standing beside it, face pinched with anger was Draco and the second his eyes met Harry’s his expression darkened. 

“Harry? Are you okay?” Hermione asked and stopped in front of him, blocking his view of Draco. Harry licked his lips, meeting Hermione’s eyes. She looked concerned. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Is Malfoy bothering you? I thought you were friends but if he’s bullying you...”

Harry let out a nervous laugh at that. “Draco’s not bullying me.” For a split second, she looked like she didn’t believe him but Harry sidestepped her and continued walking and Hermione fell into step beside him. “We had a fight. I’m, uh, not good with confrontations.”

“A fight?”

Harry nodded and stopped again, pulling Hermione close to him. “I’ll work it out. Thanks for lending me the book in the library. We should hang out again, maybe do homework together?”

Hermione still looked confused but she nodded and readjusted her school bag on her shoulder. “Yeah, I’m in the library most days.” She spared one last glance to Draco before waving good-bye to Harry and disappearing into the hall, making her way over to the Gryffindor table. 

The nerves were back and Harry shoved his hands into his pockets to keep them from shaking as he approached his friend. Or he hoped that Draco was still his friend after he’d ditched them. Harry wasn’t entirely sure how friends worked. Did fights end things? Was it that simple? Or did they just make things complicated? Dudley and Piers seemed to be constantly getting into fights but then they’d find someone they  _ both _ wanted to fight and they’d disregard whatever disagreement they had in order to ban together to bully the _ new  _ target. 

But Harry wasn’t Dudley and he’d pushed Draco away when the boy had wanted to help him. 

The first thing Draco did when Harry got to him was pull him into a hug. The second thing Draco did was punch Harry in the arm, _ hard _ . “Why’d you ditch me?”

Harry winced, “I’m sorry, I thought if I stayed you’d make me talk to Snape.”

“I wouldn’t have,” Draco said, but wilted when Harry stared openly at him. “Well I might have but if I had known you were that opposed to it I would have dropped it.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry repeated, “I’m not good at sharing stuff like this. Plus I’m not even sure anything happened and if I went whining to Snape about every invisible, possibly even imaginary, illness he’d hate me.”

“He wouldn’t!”

“You’re his godson, Draco. Of course, he’s nice to you. But I don’t get that from him. I don’t think he likes me that much and I know that when someone doesn’t like you it’s better to stay away than provoke them.”

“He doesn’t dislike you,” Draco said without conviction.

Harry’s stomach grumbled and Draco rolled his eyes, pulling Harry into the Great Hall where the food had already been laid out. Snape eyed them when they entered but said nothing. Harry gulped at the cold sternness that echoed out of Snape’s eyes but it softened when Draco shot an apologetic grin up at the head table. 

Once they’d sat down at the Slytherin table Draco seemed to completely forget about their conversation, for which Harry was very grateful. He was glad he was still friends with Draco and that he wasn’t going to force Harry to tell anyone about what happened in potions but he wasn’t in the mood to continue to discuss it.

To Draco’s credit, he never suggested that Harry go to Snape again, not even when he’d found Harry staring in the mirror, frozen with his toothbrush clenched in one trembling hand, for several, drawn-out seconds. Nor, when Harry stopped walking one day and started picking at his robes, then aborting the action, only to start again a few seconds later, mumbling the whole time. That one scared Draco, more than he’d ever admit to anyone, but he wanted to respect Harry’s wishes. He hoped he’d be able to, but he also had to promise himself that if it got bad enough, he’d tell Snape or even, he shuddered to think of it, Dumbledore. 

“Harry?” Draco asked when the episode seemed like it had ended. But the boy’s eyes were still glossy and Draco had to tap Harry’s shoulder before he was able to focus on Draco’s face. “We’re going to be late, do you think you can?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, but looked like he didn’t know what he was agreeing to. Draco managed to get them to transfiguration on time and Harry didn’t seem to have any issue with the lesson that day so Draco pushed down the guilty and scared thoughts that kept echoing in his mind. 

The next afternoon at three-thirty, Harry and Draco and the other Slytherins hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance. The Gryffindors were already there, and Harry waved at Hermione, smiling as her eyes lit up and she waved back, bumping her shoulder into a red-headed kid(whose name Harry couldn’t remember)’s shoulder when he leaned in and whispered something in her ear. Two boys behind him, a black kid, with brown eyes, and a short, freckled boy who Harry remembered had a thick Irish accent and who he thought was named Seamus, laughed at the comment. Harry scowled when it seemed like the light had gone out of Hermione’s eyes. 

Twenty broomsticks laid in neat lines on the ground. Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk. 

“Well, what are you all waiting for?” she barked. “Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up.”

Harry ended up at a broomstick on the edge of the Slytherins, right next to Hermione and close enough to the red-head and Seamus and Dean that he could hear them snickering under their breaths about the  _ evil  _ Slytherins. Harry sighed. He’d known that Snape, Draco, and the other Slytherins hadn’t been lying about their reputation but he’d rarely seen it in action. Now that he thought about it, it could be that Draco, so perceptive to Harry’s moods, had shielded him from any comments that echoed throughout the halls. He’d remembered several times when Draco had risen his voice just as they were passing a few Gryffindors, but Harry just thought that Draco liked to emphasize bits and pieces of his stories. 

“Stick out your right hand over your broom,” called Madam Hooch at the front, “and say ‘Up!’”

“UP!” everyone shouted. 

Harry’s broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Hermione’s had simply rolled on the ground, and Millicent’s hadn’t moved at all. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid, thought Harry; there was a quaver in Neville, a small Gryffindor boy whose broom hadn’t moved an inch either, that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground. 

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Harry had to calm Draco down when she told him that he’d been doing it wrong for years. “Don’t you want to learn to get better?” Harry asked. 

Draco scowled but nodded. 

“Now when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard,” said Madam Hooch. “Keep your broomsticks ready, rise a few feet, and then come back down by leaning forward slightly. One my whistle--three--two--”

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch’s lips. 

Harry’s heart leaped into his throat as Madam Hooch yelled at Neville, calling him boy in that detached tone that he’d heard Uncle Vernon use before he got locked away in his cupboard. Would Neville get into trouble? Maybe if he didn’t get hurt, he’d just get a lecture. But Harry watched with dread as Neville rose up twenty feet like a cork shot out of a bottle. 

Harry saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off his broom and--

Harry shut his eyes and thought about Neville floating down softly, of the grass being bouncy and Neville hitting it like a drifting sheet of paper, and then springing up like all he’d done was jump onto a mattress. He knew what it felt like to fall from that height, his uncle had pushed him out of a window once for scratching it while cleaning it and Harry had broken his arm and sliced open his cheeks from the thorns on Aunt Petunia’s rosebush. 

He heard gasps, but no thud and Harry risked a glance, seeing Neville sitting unharmed, but pale-faced, on the ground, bouncing slightly as it wavered like an upset water-bed.

“Who did this?” Madam Hooch screeched and Harry paled, feeling his legs tremble. He must have done it. He’d done things like _ this _ before-- apparating onto a school roof to get away from Dudley, growing his hair out overnight when Aunt Petunia had cut it too short, turning a teacher’s hair blue when she was scolding him. 

He knew the consequences of  _ this _ , of being _ freaky _ . But he was so tired. He felt drained, like he’d zapped all his energy out. He felt his lids droop and a hand curl around his arm. 

“Harry?” Draco’s voice was pinched with panic, “did you do that?”

Harry couldn’t help but nod as his vision turned black and he leaned onto Draco, going completely limp. 

“Madam Hooch!” Draco called, even more panicked, and it was the last thing Harry heard before he let himself drop into the murky bliss of unconsciousness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I hoped you liked this chapter! Sorry to end it on a semi-cliffhanger. In the next chapter there will be more Ron, I promise, and he'll start to be a lot nicer. I still haven't decided if I am going to have Harry make up the flying lesson so that he can get a seeker position, because once Madam Pomfrey finds out his epilepsy he wouldn't be able to play until it is completely regulated with potions, and I don't know if I want to put Harry through that, so if you have any thoughts on that let me know! If you liked this chapter please leave a kudos or a comment :)
> 
> Thanks,   
C


	5. Chapter 4--The Hospital Wing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Just wanna let you know that I will be trying my best to follow the chronological order of the actual book but a few things may get shifted back and forth on accident. So don't worry Harry will get invited to see Hagrid's hut, where they can ask about the stone, even though in the book that happens before the first flying lesson and in here it didn't. I just got a couple of events mixed up but I'm trying my best!

The first time Harry woke, there was a muffled conversation just a few beds away. Harry groaned, feeling sore and tired. The voices continued and Harry looked around, realizing that he was alone in the hospital wing aside from the two people arguing. Through the curtain, Harry could make out a tall figure with dark hair and another with a long gray beard. His stomach dropped as he caught some of the words, and placed them with Professor Snape and the Headmaster. 

“You cannot be serious Albus. Additional lessons for the boy? As if he didn’t already have an inflated sense of self. Your coddling him and insisting on special treatment will only make him as arrogant as his father.”

“Severus, my dear boy, Harry has a very special gift and it would do us well to culture it.”

“Why do you not tutor the boy yourself then? I am a very busy man. I do not have time to babysit the boy-who-lived every second of every day. I have potions to make for the hospital wing, essays to grade, lessons to plan, and the other duty you have tasked me with. Or have you already forgotten about that project?”

“I understand that I am asking a lot of you,” Dumbledore said in that calm voice of his and Harry felt the exhaustion start to drag him back under, “and I must express my regret for asking you to undertake this as well. But as his Head of House and one of the most talented wizards on staff at performing non-verbal spells, it only makes sense to place you as his mentor.”

_ Mentor? Lessons? Non-verbal spells?  _ He yawned, feeling the conversation begin to flee his mind and Harry tried to anchor himself on those questions. Why would he need lessons and why did Snape have to give them to him?

He didn’t notice the voices dropping off, or the movement of the curtain around his bed. He could make out a low murmur around him, and a weathered hand pressing itself to his forehead before he let sleep overtake him. 

The second time Harry woke, Madam Pomfrey was standing by his bed, wand in hand, and running a hand over his hair, clucking with soft noises of affection. “There you are, I was worried you were going to sleep the whole afternoon.”

He let her ruffle his hair for a few minutes more, mostly because he’d never had anyone do it before, and some small part of his heart felt warmed by the affection, before pulling away. He ignored how Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat, looking a little hurt. 

“I need to run a few tests, is that alright Harry?”

Harry nodded, picking at the blanket over his legs and slowly remembering the hazy conversation he’d overheard when he had first woken. He glanced through the curtains but the main area of the infirmary was empty. The table by his bed caught his eye, however, and Harry saw that it was littered with cards and flowers. Without his glasses, he couldn’t make out any of the handwriting on the cards and he wondered who had felt the need to give Harry anything. He supposed the flowers could be from Hermione, and the travel set of Wizard’s chess could be from Draco. But behind that was three cards, and to the side was a package of chocolate frogs. 

“Here,” Madam Pomfrey handed Harry his glasses and he slid them on. The cards were addressed to him from Dean, Seamus, and Ron, who Harry remembered as being three Gryffindor boys in his flying lessons. The chocolate frogs had a tag hanging from the top on which Neville had scrawled a quick thank you note. Harry blushed, feeling quite touched that he had gotten a few items from the Gryffindors, who Harry had known held a deep prejudice against Slytherins and a specific hatred for his Head of House

Once again, the argument between Snape and Dumbledore pressed itself to the front of Harry’s mind. 

“Madam Pomfrey?” Harry cleared his throat. The mediwitch stopped, wand in hand and a small table set up by his bed with various potions and instruments on it. Despite the fact that she was in the middle of setting up, she settled her full attention on him. “What happened?”

She smiled tightly and pressed a hand onto Harry’s shoulder. Unconsciously, he leaned into the touch. “You saved Neville today by performing a spell called arresto momentum, which slows down the speed of a falling object, and transfiguring the grass into a rubbery substance.”

“How could I have cast a spell I’d never heard of?”

Madam Pomfrey sat down on the edge of Harry’s bed and he let his eyes roam across her intricate updo. A white streak of hair curled delicately on top of her head, pinned in the back to keep any stray pieces out of her face while she worked. “Sometimes when wizards are feeling very strong emotions they can perform accidental magic. However, accidental magic is usually something small, like breaking a glass on a table in a temper tantrum, or causing the lights to flicker in a room when sad.”

“Or having your hair grow back overnight after a nasty haircut?”

“Did that happen to you?” Harry nodded and Pomfrey smiled. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m talking about.” Harry beamed under the praise. “Not many wizards are capable of performing non-verbal spells that are as advanced as you did Harry, even on purpose.”

“Is that why Dumbledore wants Snape to give me lessons?” The words were out of Harry’s mouth before he’d realized what he was saying. 

Madam Pomfrey's face fell and Harry knew that she was worried he’d overheard how adamant Snape had been against the arrangement.“The headmaster wants to ensure that you have control over your magic. It is very dangerous for a wizard to exhaust their magic as you did this afternoon.”

Madam Pomfrey rose again to start the examination but Harry blurted “Do you think the Headmaster could do my lessons instead of Professor Snape? He seemed awful put out about it.”

“ I’m sure your Head of House is happy to help you,” Madam Pomfrey said in a controlled voice. 

“That’s not true!” Harry said and sighed. “Professor Snape doesn’t like me. If he has to do those lessons then he’ll hate me for the next seven years.” Harry could feel his breathing speeding up, catching in his chest. Madam Pomfrey tried to shush him but Harry’s mouth kept running. “Can anyone else give me the lessons? Please?” Harry didn’t know where this desperate plea had come from. He’d never gotten anything he’d wanted just because he had complained. But he was beginning to realize how bad it would be for him if Snape had to give him those lessons. And how easy it would be for Snape to take out his anger on him. He felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“I’m sorry Harry but you would have to discuss that with the headmaster and you really must calm down.”

Harry jumped up, determined to find Dumbledore when he realized with a start that he didn’t know where the headmaster’s office was. His head was pounding and his heart was racing. Madam Pomfrey took his hesitation as a chance to scoop him back onto the bed. “You can talk to him after my exam. If you get off of that bed again I’ll charm you to stick to it.”

“I’m sorry, Madam,” Harry said, still gasping. 

“Drink this.” She pressed a small vial of a blue potion into his hand and Harry downed it in one go, feeling a lot less panicked. 

“I know you are sorry, child, but you are suffering from great magical exhaustion,  _ which presents itself after a wizard casts spells at a more advanced level than his magic is capable of _ ,” she added hastily upon Harry’s questioning look. “You may speak to the headmaster later, but for now, I need to examine you.” 

Harry felt the hum of magic as it flowed through his body. He waited until Madam Pomfrey finished her examination and turned to him, three other potions in her hands. “You will need to rest for quite some time before you’ll be able to cast any magic. Your magical core is still depleted.”

“What about my classes?” Harry asked, drinking each of the potions she handed him, grimacing at the taste. 

“You’ll return to classes once you’re well-rested and your magical core has gone back to its usual capacity.”

“How long will that take?”

“That depends, Mr. Potter, on how much you rest and if you do what I tell you to. I’d also like to get you to gain a little weight, you’re much too thin for your age.”

Harry blushed and sucked his lip into his mouth. He hated being as short and scrawny as he was. He was hoping he’d grow out of it in a few years, as he put on weight from the food at Hogwarts and hit puberty.

“I’m going to start you on a nutritional potion, which you will take in the mornings, and have you take a mild sedative a few times a day to help you rest. If you rest properly, you should be released by the weekend.”

_ The weekend?  _ Harry wanted to cry, as it was still four days away, but he stopped himself. 

“Now, do you feel up to resting a little more, or should I let your friends visit for a little bit?”

“Could they?” Harry asked, his face lighting up. He really wanted to see Draco and he was hoping that Hermione would come as well.

Pomfrey nodded, spelling the doors to the hospital wing open and Draco, apparently stuck fast to the door in an effort to listen to the conversation, fell through the open doorway. 

“Mr. Malfoy!” Pomfrey chastised but Harry could see that she was grinning. 

For a moment it looked like Draco was going to try and come up with a lie for what he was doing, but he caught sight of the same grin Harry had seen and pushed himself off, brushing the dust off of his nice cream sweater. 

“Would you two like some pumpkin juice?” Pomfrey offered and, upon seeing their enthusiastic grins, asked a house-elf to bring some. 

Draco bounced up and down on the end of Harry’s bed, twisting the blanket in his fists. Harry brushed a hand through his hair and watched as the hot afternoon sun filtered in through the windows. 

Harry wished more than anything that he was out there, playing some game or another with Draco. He hated being stuck in the infirmary. 

Draco must’ve seen the way Harry was looking outside because he pushed himself up against Harry’s side and dragged the travel Wizard’s chess set off of the end table. 

“Do you wanna play? I can teach you some strategy now that you have the basics down.”

Harry looked at the small slumbering pieces and smiled, remembering how violently his players had argued against his moves the last time he’d played. It would be nice to know how to play in a way that wouldn’t cause a complete mutiny. 

“Sure,” Harry said, sipping at his pumpkin juice while Draco set up the board. Slowly, his bad mood was fading away. He’d have to deal with Snape at some point or another anyway and he was going to be let out of the infirmary in just a few days. He still didn’t like it but there was little point in sulking over it. 

Draco and Harry played chess for the majority of the afternoon before Pomfrey sent Draco out to the Great Hall for dinner, telling him that she would hate to have to contact Professor Snape over Draco missing a meal. That got the reluctant Slytherin moving towards the door, but not before he’d asked Pomfrey if he could return after pudding. 

“I’m sure Mr. Potter will need his rest after he eats, but if he feels up to it, I’m sure you could return for a few hours before curfew.”

Draco thanked her before running out into the hallways, rushing to get to the meal on time. 

In the infirmary, Harry had some mac and cheese and a small apple, completed by his nutrition potion and a tall glass of milk. Harry didn’t think that any wizard had heard of mac and cheese, let alone know that it was something Harry had always wanted to try. It was just as good as he imagined when he was little. The cheese was warm and gooey and the pasta was plain but coated in breadcrumbs and baked so that the whole thing had a nice crust. 

Harry finished long before Draco would return. He thought about maybe sleeping a little but he was worried that if Pomfrey came out to check on him and he was asleep she wouldn’t let Draco visit that night. He didn’t have much time to worry over this, however, because soon the red-headed Gryffindor Harry had seen in multiple of his classes was wavering in the doorway.

“Madam Pomfrey’s in her office if you’re looking for her,” Harry called out, watching as the boy fidgeted in the wide doorway, scuffing his beat-up trainers on the floor. 

The boy’s head snapped up when he realized that Harry had addressed him and he flushed a little but began to cross the infirmary towards Harry’s bed. Harry’s eyes flicked to the three cards on his bedside table and he remembered Hermione mentioning a kid named Ron. He wondered if this was Ron. It would make sense as only a Gryffindor that was friends with Hermione would know it was safe to visit Harry in the hospital wing, even if a few more had written him cards. Harry greeted him when Ron drifted close enough to his bed. 

“Hi,” Ron said, his eyes drifting around and landing on the travel Wizard’s chess set that Draco and he had been playing earlier. “Wow, you have a travel set? That’s brilliant. I asked my mum for one but she said that there was no point as all of the common rooms have at least one.”

Harry nodded. “Draco got me one as a get well gift. He’s teaching me to play but I’m pretty hopeless.”

Ron scowled when Harry mentioned Draco but he seemed to brighten at the prospect of playing chess with anyone. “Would you like to play a game? Can’t promise I’ll be much of an opponent thought.”

“I’d take anyone at this point,” Ron groaned, comfortable enough to take up a chair by Harry’s bed. “I can’t get anyone to play with me. Hermione thinks its a waste of time and I’ve beat Dean and Seamus enough times that they’ve sworn off it.”

Harry laughed at that and Ron chuckled a little with him. “Well, Draco has beaten me every time we’ve played so I promise you won’t scare me off.”

“Brillant,” Ron said, smiling as he set the game up. Harry watched him, curious. He really hoped he could convince Ron to become his friend. There must be something drawing him here to visit Harry, and it was possibly more than just gratitude on Neville’s behalf. 

“Ready?” Ron asked, moving his first pawn and gesturing towards Harry, who nodded. And the game began. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked this chapter! I am planning on updating once every other week, either on Saturday or Sunday. Please let me know if you guys are enjoying the story and if there is anything you would like to see by leaving a kudos or comment. 
> 
> Have a lovely weekend!  
C


	6. Fluffy, Fights, and Fits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys, I am so sorry for the wait. Thank you all for being so incredibly patient with me. It's been a hard semester and I just haven't been able to find the time to write. I hope you like this chapter!
> 
> **This chapter was edited 1.6.2020 to fix some issues with Hermione's character. Also please note that past this chapter I will no longer be writing out Hagrid's accent. It is not something I am overly good at and was only including it as the books, and many fanfiction for that matter, write out his accent. However, I do not overly enjoy it and I've received some feedback that it detracts from the story. That's all!

By the time Harry was released from the hospital wing, he was sure of three things. One, that Dumbledore wouldn’t let him get out of extra lessons. He’d tried to broach the subject when the man had come to check on him a few days into his stay but the Headmaster had just smiled and told him he was sure that it would work out. Snape was, after all, Harry’s Head of House and excellent at non-verbal spells. Two, that him and Ron were on pretty good terms. The redhead had come back a few times after the first visit to play chess against Harry, and when that became boring, they talked about Quidditch. And Third, Harry was hopeless when it came to Wizard’s chess. He was resigned to setting up Ron and Draco in a game as both had thoroughly trounced him every time they’d played. 

Madam Pomfrey released him on Friday evening, leaving him all of Saturday and Sunday to hang out with his friends before classes on Monday. He’d finished the majority of his missed schoolwork while in the hospital wing, finding the chance to work without a study group judging him for any mistakes a pleasant surprise. If he ever got stuck he could always consult Pomfrey as this early into the term, the hospital wing was usually empty. So early Saturday morning Harry asked Draco and Hermione if they’d like to come with him to visit Hagrid, who he hadn’t seen since the visit to Diagon Alley and Gringotts after Harry’s 11th birthday. 

It was a cool day, chillier than most days so far into term but not so chilly that Harry had felt the need to break out a thicker cloak or gloves. Upon Hermione’s request he had wrapped his Slytherin scarf around his neck Draco, on the other hand, was adorned in a thick hat and scarf with leather, monogrammed gloves. 

“Mother insists,” Draco said as they exited the castle, his cheeks unusually flushed. 

“Well I think it’s great,” Hermione added, her own hair bustled underneath a woolly cap, mittens on her hands. 

Harry let himself smile at his two friends for a moment, the happiness only fading when the memories from the hospital wing rolled in. 

“Hey, Draco?”

He turned, his hand on Hermione’s scarf, trying to help her wrap it fully around her ears. 

“When I was in the hospital wing, Snape said something about a duty he had for Dumbledore, do you know what that might be?”

Draco stilled, thinking and frowning. “No, he hasn’t mentioned anything to my dad at least.”

“Do you think it has something to do with the third floor being off-limits?” Hermione asked. 

Harry thought that might make a little sense. He didn’t know how it connected to the break-in at Gringotts, or whatever it was Hagrid had gotten for Dumbledore. Was Snape helping to protect it? But from who? “Has anyone found out what’s up there?”

“It’s against the rules to check,” Hermione said, worriedly, biting her lip. Harry smiled at her. 

“Over the summer, Hagrid had to pick something up from Gringotts while we were at Diagon Alley. It was right before the break-in. Somehow, these things have to be connected.”

“‘Arry!” Hagrid bellowed from the doorway of the small hut when the three of them neared, cutting off the conversation. Fang, never missing a chance to be around people came bounding toward them.

“Hey boy,” Harry giggled, getting knocked onto his back by the dog. 

“‘Ang! G’t’off ‘m”

“It’s fine Hagrid,” Harry said and pushed Fang away so he could get his feet under him. Hermione neared and rubbed the top of Fang’s head, watching as the hound’s tongue lolled out of his mouth. He nosed at her hand and circled around, hitting her with his tail as he advanced to Draco, who stifled a gasp and hid behind Harry.

“Draco?”

“I don’t like dogs,” Draco said fearlessly, but his knees were shaking. 

Hagrid whistled for Fang and Harry gave the half-giant a grateful smile. 

Inside, the hut was warm and a full baking tray lay on the counter. Harry could see large, scone-like pastries cut into misshapen triangles. 

“I didn’t know you didn’t like dogs, Draco,” Harry said. 

In the background, Hagrid was preparing mugs of tea. Fang was curled around the fire, his head on his hind legs as his eyes drooped. Hagrid handed out the tea and scones and Harry took a sip of the too-sweet tea. 

“Not all dogs,” Draco cut in, face pinched. Hermione put a hand on his shoulder. “Just big ones.”

“One of my friends from primary school was afraid of dogs. She’d gotten bit when she was younger and it just stuck.”

Hagrid sat at the edge of the table, spraying crumbs into his beard as he bit into a scone. Harry turned to him. 

“Hagrid have you ever had a dog you couldn’t control?”

The half-giant shook his head and took another swig of tea. “Sweet as can be, my dogs, that is. Never met a hound I couldn’t love. Even Fluffy--” he cut himself off abruptly and Harry frowned, bemused 

“Fluffy?”

“Never mind, that. Ain’t important. Shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

Over the table, Hermione and Harry made eye contact. They let it slide when Hagrid abruptly changed the conversation. 

“‘R you ready ‘arry fer yer lessons?”

Harry’s stomach dropped and he swirled the remnants of his tea around the bottom of the mug. Fang, sensing his distress, moved to rest his big head on Harry’s feet. “I don't know.”

Hagrid frowned, “What’s ta matter ‘arry? It’s right good of Pr’fessor Snape to do ‘em.”

The hut was suddenly too warm and Harry pushed away his mug of tea to take off his scarf and cloak. Draco watched on with concern. “He doesn’t want to, Professor Snape. I heard him arguing with Dumbledore about it.” Harry sighed and turned his attention to his hands, rubbing circles on one of his palms. 

“Oh, I’m sure that ain’t true ‘Arry.”

“But it is!” Harry yelled, wincing at the volume of his words. “I know when I’m not wanted and I don’t want the lessons if it’s just going to make Professor Snape mad at me. He already doesn’t like me. I don’t need the extra effort,” he said, quieter. 

Hagrid was standing now, collecting the china from each of them and setting it into the sink full of warm water and soap. 

“Ta Pr’fessor wouldva never agreed ta it ‘arry, if he really didn’t want ta.”

“I guess,” Harry said, disbelieving. It was nearing the time for dinner and he just wanted to leave, grab a few rolls from the Great Hall, and board himself up in the dorms. 

Hagrid still looked concerned and he was eyeing Harry as the boy dressed himself back up for the cold. “Lemme walk you all up,” he said. Harry nodded. 

The walk back to the castle was a lot colder than the walk down and Harry was glad to have taken his scarf. Hermione was chatting with Hagrid and Draco was walking beside Harry but not talking. He was glad for that because he didn’t want to talk about anything. 

It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to being unwanted. At the Dursley’s he was frequently reminded of it, in fact. He had been told since he was a little boy that he was a no-good freak and that he had taken so much of Dudley’s mouth just by existing. But at Hogwarts, he was supposed to be free of that. He didn’t understand how forcing Professor Snape to teach him anything was going to work. They were private as well, which meant that Professor Snape could be as nasty and cruel to Harry as he wanted and nobody would know. It wouldn’t weaken Slytherin’s supposed united front because none of the other houses would ever know what occurred in them. 

Once they got to the Great Hall, Harry took a few rolls, and tossed them onto his plate, eyeing the clock until he could leave. 

“That’s not all you’re going to eat is it?” Draco asked, gesturing to his measly pile of rolls. 

“I’m not very hungry,” Harry said. Draco huffed but returned to being quiet. 

“Why is the Weasel looking over here at you?” Draco asked. Harry turned, making eye contact with Ron from across the Hall. The redheaded Gryffindor was smiling and sitting in between Neville and Dean Thomas. Harry waved to him. 

“You’re friends with them now?” Draco snarled and Harry reeled back a little at the tone. 

“What’s it to you?” 

“I just don’t want you getting involved with the wrong sort.”

Harry, feeling unbelievable anger surge up from inside him, grabbed his three rolls and shoved them into his cloak pockets. “I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks,” he said coolly.”

Across the table, Blaise and Theo were getting to leave as well so Harry joined them, asking about the Transfiguration essay that was due at the end of the week. 

Draco caught up to them outside of the hall. Harry tried to ignore him, winding down the cooler hallways to the dungeon. 

“Do you guys know how to get ink stains off of the parchment? I try to be neat but I’m not very good at using the quills.”

“My mother taught me a spell that removes them. Find me some time and I’ll show you,” Theodore said. 

Draco tugged on Harry’s cloak. “Harry.”

“What do you want Draco?”

“I want to know why you’re so mad. I’m just looking out for you. The Weasley’s are blood-traitors, Harry.”

“Blood-traitors?”

“Muggle-lovers. They support them.”

“What’s wrong with Muggles? Hermione’s a muggle-born.”

“Unfortunately,” Draco said, curling his lip. 

Harry took a step back. “I never had many friends when I was growing up, Draco. I’m not going to leave the ones that I have now just because of their blood status. My mother was a muggle-born and she was a very smart witch. I don’t know why you’re so against muggles but they’re not bad, Draco.”

The blonde stared back at him. Harry, needing some space, walked to the library. He found Hermione at a table in the far back and sat down, pulling out his rolls and picking at them, dusting the table with crumbs.

“Are you alright?” Hermione asked, shutting her book. 

Harry met her eyes and frowned. “Draco’s being a git.”

She smiled slightly, “Is that all?”

“What do you mean is that all?” 

“Well it’s just...that Draco is kind of always a git.”

“He’s been mean to you?”

“I don’t think that he likes that I’m a muggle-born. And I think that he’s jealous he’s no longer your only friend. But I wouldn’t say he’s been mean to me. I think he appreciates you too much to do anything to make you stop talking to him.”

Harry crossed his arms, “Well he told me not to be friends with Ron.”

Hermione nodded, pushing her book away. Harry felt very foggy and his arms felt heavy, like they were weighted. He took in a breath but the swirling feeling didn’t go away. 

“Are you okay Harry?” Hermione asked, taking one of his hands. It felt like she was touching a different person and the words felt like they were stretched over miles of rolling hills. 

He tried to speak but his tongue was a thick, useless lump in his mouth. He came to Hermione squatting next to him, rubbing circles on his back. His lips felt raw and he knew that he’d had another episode. One of the ones that freaked Draco out more than usual. He still felt like his head was full of cotton wool and his hands were still shaking slightly. 

Hermione met his gaze, her eyes filled with tears. “Are you alright?”

Harry nodded, breaking eye contact. “Draco calls them episodes. I have them sometimes.”

Hermione looked on, worried. “Oh,” she said, worrying her lip. "Do you know what causes them?"

He screwed up his mouth. “No. I just sometimes lose track of time. Draco says some of those times, I repeat movements or pick at my clothes. .”

“Have you seen Madam Pomfrey about it?”

Harry shook his head. He looked around, trying to see if Hermione had told anyone about it. Madam Pince was still sorting through the books several shelves away. The other students hadn’t stopped doing their homework. “Pomfrey will tell Snape and he already hates me because of these lessons. I don’t want to give him more reason to.”

“But Harry--”

“Please Hermione. I don’t trust him. He made my scar hurt one time when I looked at him.”

“Oh, Harry that’s a curse scar.”

“I know it’s a curse scar. I don’t know why but when I made eye contact with Professor Snape my scar hurt. I don’t trust him, I don’t think that he’s safe.”

Hermione was worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. “If I don’t tell anybody will you promise to at least get help if it gets worse?”

Harry nodded, after all, Draco had made him promise the same thing. “Thank you.”

Hermione shook her head, but she didn’t look angry. “Why don’t you go find Draco and talk to him. I’m sure he’ll be willing to listen now that you’ve both cooled down. In the meantime, I'll look into your little...problem. Maybe it's something common only in wizards?”

“Don't waste your time," Harry said, his heart quickening. He knew Hermione, and he knew if she had an answer she would have to share it with Pomfrey. Hermione nodded and dropped her eyes.

"Then I'll see you Harry," she said, turning away.

"Oh, Hermione?" She hummed. "I hope you’re right, about Draco that is.”

"Me too, Harry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hoped that you liked the chapter! If you did please leave a kudos or a comment, I really appreciate the feedback. Next chapter I'm going to start the private lessons between Harry and Snape. Also, this fic will deviate from canon events quite a lot after the next chapter. Thank you all for the support you've shown me and this fic. 
> 
> Love,  
C


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